Unit 3A - The Rite of Spring

The Rite of Spring

Arthur Miller

I have never understood why we keep a garden and why over 36 years ago when I bought my first house in the country, I started digging up a patch for vegetables before doing anything else. When you think how easy and cheap, relatively, it is to buy a bunch of carrots or beets, why raise them? And root crops especially are hard to tell apart, when store-bought, from our own. There is a human instinct at work here, a kind of back-breaking make-believe that has no reality. Besides, I don't particularly like eating vegetables. I'd much rather eat something juicy and fat. Like hot dogs.

Now, if you could raise hot dogs outside your window, you'd really have something you could justify without a second's hesitation. As it is, though, I cannot deny that when April comes I find myself going out to lean on the fence and look at that miserable plot of land, resolving with all my rational powers not to plant it again. But inevitably a morning arrives when, just as I am awakening, a scent wafts through the window, something like earth-as-air, a scent that seems to come up from the very center of this planet. And the sun means business, suddenly, and has a different, deeper yellow in its beams on the carpet. The birds begin screaming hysterically, thinking what I am thinking—the worms are deliciously worming their way through the melting soil.

It is not only pleasure sending me back to stare at that plot of soil, it is really conflict. The question is the same each year—what method should we use? The last few years we put 36-inch-wide black plastic between the rows, and it worked perfectly, keeping the soil moist in dry times and weed-free.

But black plastic looks so industrial, so unromantic, that I have gradually moved over to hay mulch. We cut a lot of hay and, as it rots, it does improve the soil's composition. Besides, it looks lovely, and comes to us free.

Keeping a garden makes you aware of how delicate, bountiful, and easily ruined the surface of this little planet is. In that 50-by-70-foot patch there must be a dozen different types of soil. Tomato won't grow in one part but loves another, and the same goes for the other crops. I suppose if you loaded the soil with chemical fertilizer these differences would be less noticeable, but I use it sparingly and only in rows right where seeds are planted rather than broadcast over the whole area. I'm not sure why I do this beyond the saving in fertilizer and my unwillingness to aid the weeds.

The attractions of gardening, I think, at least for a certain number of gardeners, are neurotic and moral. Whenever life seems pointless and difficult to grasp, you can always get out in the garden and get something done. Also, your paternal or maternal instincts come into play because helpless living things are depending on you, require training and encouragement and protection from enemies. In some cases, as with beans and cucumbers, your children—as it were, begin to turn upon you in massive numbers, growing more and more each morning and threatening to follow you into the house to strangle you in their vines.

Gardening is a moral occupation as well, because you always start in spring resolved to keep it looking neat this year, just like the pictures in the catalogues. But by July, you once again face the chaos of unthinned carrots, lettuce and beets. This is when my wife becomes—openly now—mistress of the garden. A consumer of vast quantities of vegetables, she does the thinning and hand-cultivating of the tiny plants. Squatting, she patiently moves down each row selecting which plants shall live and which she will cast aside.

At about this time, my wife's 86-year-old mother, a botanist, makes her first visit to the garden. She looks about skeptically. Her favorite task is binding the tomato plants to stakes. She is an outspoken, truthful woman, or she was until she learned better. Now, instead of saying, "You have planted the tomatoes in the damp part of the garden," she waits until October when she makes her annual trip to her home in Europe; then she gives me my good-bye kiss and says casually, "Tomatoes in damp soil tend more to get fungi," and walks away to her plane. But by October nothing in the garden matters, so sure am I that I will never plant it again.

I garden, I suppose, because I must. It would be intolerable to have to pass an unplanted fenced garden a few times a day. There are also certain compensations, and these must be what annually turn my mind toward all that work. There are few sights quite as beautiful as a vegetable garden glistening in the sun, all dewy and glittering with a dozen shades of green at seven in the morning. Far lovelier, in fact, than rows of hot dogs. In some pocket of the mind there may even be a tendency to change this vision into a personal reassurance that all this healthy growth, this orderliness and thrusting life must somehow reflect movements in one's own spirit. Without a garden to till and plant I would not know what April was for.

As it is, April is for getting irritated all over again at this pointless, time-consuming hobby. I do not understand people who claim to "love" gardening. A garden is an extension of oneself—or selves—and so it has to be an arena where striving does not cease, but continues by other means. As an example: you simply have to face the moment when you must admit that the lettuce was planted too deep or was not watered enough, cease hoping it will show itself tomorrow, and dig up the row again. But you will feel better for not standing on your dignity. And that's what gardening is all about—character building. Which is why Adam was a gardener. (And we all know where it got him, too.)

But is it conceivable that the father of us should have been a weaver, shoemaker, or anything but a gardener? Of course not. Only the gardener is capable of endlessly reviving so much hope that this year, regardless of drought, flood, typhoon, or his own stupidity, this year he is going to do it right! Leave it to God to have picked the proper occupation for his only creature capable of such self-delusion.

I suppose it should be added, for honesty's sake, that the above was written on one of the coldest days in December.

参考译文——春的洗礼

春的洗礼

阿瑟·米勒

我一直想不通为什么我们要经营一个菜园，为什么36年前我在乡村买第一座房子时，在做其他事情之前，我就先挖出一块地来种菜。当你想到买一捆胡萝卜或甜菜，相对来讲是多么容易和便宜时，你就会问自己为什么要动手种它们呢？而且从商店买来的块根类作物和我们自己种的很难区分开。这是人类天生的本能在作怪，是一种费尽心力的自欺欺人的行为。而且我不是特别喜欢吃蔬菜，我更喜欢吃油腻多汁的东西，比如热狗。

现在，如果能在窗外种植热狗，你会毫不犹豫地去种。实际上，我不能否认的是，当4月份到来的时候，我会走出去斜靠在栅栏上，望着那块糟糕的小菜地，十分理智地下定决心不再种它了。然而，总有那么一个早晨，当我醒来时，一股沁人心脾的清香从窗户飘进来，有点像是泥土夹杂着空气的芳香，好像从地球中心飘出来的一股香气。太阳也来了劲，瞬间在地毯上投下比以往更加深黄的光束。鸟儿开始兴奋地欢唱，它们和我想的一样——那些美味可口的虫子正从融化的泥土中爬出来。

使我回去凝视这块土地的不仅是快乐，更是内心的矛盾。每年的问题都是相同的：我们应该采用什么方法来种植这块地呢？前几年我们是在各垄之间铺上36英寸宽的黑色塑料膜，效果很好，即使干旱的日子也可以使土壤保持湿润，还遏制了杂草的生长。

但是黑色塑料膜看起来太工业化了，又太不浪漫，我渐渐改用干草覆盖在上面。我们割下许多干草，当它们腐烂时，的确可以使土壤更加肥沃。而且，它们赏心悦目，还是免费的。

经营一个菜园你就会感觉到地球这颗小行星的表面有多脆弱、多富庶，又是多么容易被毁坏。在这块50英尺宽、70英尺长的菜地中，必然会有许多不同类型的土壤。番茄在一个地方不爱生长，在另一个地方却长得很好，其他作物也一样。我想，如果给土壤施上化肥，这种差别就不会那么明显了，我对化肥的使用量并不大，只撒在有种子的田垄上，而不是撒满整片地。除了节省肥料、不愿助长杂草之外，我不知道我为什么要这样做。

我想，至少对一部分园丁来说，园艺的吸引力是精神上的。每当生活看上去毫无意义并难以把握的时候，你在园子里都可以得到解脱并且找到事情来做。此外，你身上的父性或母性的本能开始起作用，因为那些无助的生命依赖着你，需要你去培养、鼓励，并需要你去保护它们免受敌人的侵害。很多时候，那些豆子和黄瓜，可以说是你的孩子——开始群起攻击你，每天清晨不断地生长，急迫地要跟着你走进房子，使你窒息在他们的藤蔓中。

园艺也是一种有道德要求的职业，因为你总是在开春时决心这一年要把菜园弄得井井有条，就像目录中的图片一样整齐。但是到了 7月，还未被间苗的胡萝卜、莴苣和甜菜又变得一团糟。这时，我的妻子公然成了菜园的情人。她特别喜爱吃蔬菜。她会亲手为这些小植物间苗，精心培育它们。她耐心地蹲着拨弄每一垄幼苗，选择哪些该留下来，哪些要丢弃。

大约在这时候，我86岁的岳母第一次来参观我们的莱园。她是一个植物学家。她充满怀疑地到处看。她最喜欢干的事就是把番茄植物系在木棍上。岳母原是一个心直口快、实话实说的人，但是后来她学乖了。如今她不说“你把番茄种在菜园潮湿的地方了。”而是一直等到10月份，她每年回一次她欧洲的家时，她才在与我告别时随口说了句：“番茄种在潮湿的土壤里容易生菌。”随后她就走向飞机。但是到了 10月份的时候，菜园里的一切都不重要了，我确信我以后不会再种菜园了。

我想，我修整菜园是因为我必须这样做。一天多次经过这个什么都没有种植、被篱笆墙围起来的菜园是让人难以忍受的。而且菜园还有一些好处，这使我每年都会把精力转向那项工作。很少有什么景致能与菜园相媲美：早上7点钟的时候，菜园在阳光的照耀下熠熠生辉，露珠闪耀着光芒，绿荫与阳光交相辉映。其实，这远比成排的热狗要惹人爱。我在意识的深处甚至用这样的想法来宽慰自己：这些植物的健康成长、井然有序和强大的生命力，在某种程度上，反映了一个人精神上的活动。如果不耕作和种植这片菜园，我就不知道4月份有什么意义。

实际上，4月份是为了让我再次对这种无意义又费时的爱好感到恼火。我不理解那些声称“热爱”园艺的人们。菜园是自我或多个自我的延伸——因此它是一个竞技场，在这里奋斗不会停止，只是以其他方式延续而已。比方说，你必须面对这样的时刻：你必须承认莴苣种得太深了或者没有浇足水，这时就不要妄想它明天会长出来，因此需要再重新把地翻一遍。然而，放下尊严你会感觉好些。那就是园艺所有的内涵——塑造品格。这就是为什么亚当曾经是个园丁。（我们也都知道他最后的下场。）

但是，除了当园丁，我们能想象我们的祖先是纺织工、皮鞋匠或其他什么人吗？当然不能。只有园丁才能在经历了干旱、洪水、台风或由于自己的愚蠢而造成的损失后，还可以年复一年地殷切希望今年会有好收成。我们还是相信上帝为他创造的唯一能够自欺欺人的子民所选择的合适的职业吧。

我想，为了诚实起见，我应该加上一句，上面的内容写于12月份最冷的日子之一。

Key Words:

inevitably       [in'evitəbli]    

adv. 不可避免地

justify     ['dʒʌstifai]     

vt. 替 ... 辩护，证明 ... 正当

rite  [rait]

n. 仪式，典礼

hesitation       [.hezi'teiʃən]  

n. 犹豫

patch      [pætʃ]    

n. 补丁，小片

vt. 修补，补缀

miserable       ['mizərəbl]     

adj. 悲惨的，痛苦的，贫乏的

miller      ['milə]    

n. 磨坊主，铣床(工)

instinct    ['instiŋkt]

adj. 充满的

n. 本能，天性，直觉

rational   ['ræʃənəl]

adj. 合理的，理性的，能推理的

n. 有理

scent      [sent]     

n. 气味，香味，痕迹

planet     ['plænit] 

n. 行星

conflict    ['kɔnflikt]

n. 冲突，矛盾，斗争，战斗

vi. 冲突，争

hay  [hei]

n. 干草

patch      [pætʃ]    

n. 补丁，小片

vt. 修补，补缀

moist      [mɔist]   

adj. 潮湿的，湿润的

(果物)多汁的

delicate   ['delikit]  

n. 精美的东西

adj. 精美的，微妙的，美

stare       [steə(r)]  

v. 凝视，盯着看

n. 凝视

     

composition   [.kɔmpə'ziʃən]

n. 作文，著作，组织，合成物，成份

fertilizer  ['fə:tilaizə]      

n. 肥料

noticeable      ['nəutisəbl]    

adj. 显而易见的

massive  ['mæsiv]

adj. 巨大的，大规模的，大量的，大范围的

occupation     [.ɔkju'peiʃən] 

n. 职业，侵占，居住

certain    ['sə:tn]    

adj. 确定的，必然的，特定的

pron.

row [rəu,rau] 

n. 排，船游，吵闹

vt. 划船，成排

lettuce    ['letis]     

n. 莴苣，生菜，纸币

chaos     ['keiɔs]   

n. 混乱，无秩序，混沌

threatening    ['θretniŋ]

adj. 威胁(性)的，凶兆的 动词threaten的现

cast [kɑ:st]    

v. 投，掷，抛，铸造，丢弃，指定演员，加起来，投射(目

helpless  ['helplis] 

adj. 无助的，无依靠的

protection      [prə'tekʃən]   

n. 保护，防卫

tend [tend]    

v. 趋向，易于，照料，护理

outspoken     [aut'spəukən]

adj. 直言无讳的，坦率的 动词outspeak的过去

damp     [dæmp] 

adj. 潮湿的，有湿气的，沮丧的

n. 潮湿

plane      [plein]    

adj. 平的，与飞机有关的

n. 飞机，水平

truthful   ['tru:θfəl]

adj. 诚实的，真实的

reassurance   [.ri:ə'ʃuərəns] 

n. 再保证，再安慰

tendency ['tendənsi]     

n. 趋势，倾向

reflect     [ri'flekt]  

v. 反映，反射，归咎

certain    ['sə:tn]    

adj. 确定的，必然的，特定的

pron.

orderliness     ['ɔ:dəlinis]      

n. 整洁，整齐；秩序井然

lettuce    ['letis]     

n. 莴苣，生菜，纸币

occupation     [.ɔkju'peiʃən] 

n. 职业，侵占，居住

arena      [ə'ri:nə]   

n. 竞技场

conceivable    [kən'si:vəbl]   

adj. 想得到的，可想像的，可能的

drought  [draut]   

n. 干旱

understand    [.ʌndə'stænd]

vt. 理解，懂，听说，获悉，将 ... 理解为，认为<

weaver   ['wi:və]   

n. 织布者，织工

stupidity [stju:'piditi]    

n. 愚蠢

claim      [kleim]   

n. 要求，要求权;主张，断言，声称;要求物

     

honesty  ['ɔnisti]   

n. 诚实，正直

参考资料：

1. 现代大学英语精读(第2版)第二册:U3A The Rite of Spring(1)_大学教材听力 - 可可英语
2. 现代大学英语精读(第2版)第二册:U3A The Rite of Spring(2)_大学教材听力 - 可可英语
3. 现代大学英语精读(第2版)第二册:U3A The Rite of Spring(3)_大学教材听力 - 可可英语
4. 现代大学英语精读(第2版)第二册:U3A The Rite of Spring(4)_大学教材听力 - 可可英语

现代大学英语精读(第2版)第二册:U3A The Rite of Spring(5)_大学教材听力 - 可可英语